


Corruption

by GooseEgg



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mystery, Vigilantism, zelda is a bad corporate bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseEgg/pseuds/GooseEgg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hylia Futuristics starts posting record losses, Zelda has no choice but to sell her company to her biggest rival, Ganondorf Dragmire. But things aren't what they seem with either company, with one of them possibly knee-deep in the removal of the Hyrulean monarchy, and the other funding a vigilante.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corruption

**_Dragmire Technologies  
Hyrule City_ **   
**_Duember 22 nd, 2104_ **   
****_10:45 AM_

 

Ganondorf Dragmire paced around his office, occasionally pausing to admire the city view beyond the rain-streaked windows. Mere minutes ago, he had closed a deal resulting in the acquisition of Hylia Futuristics by his company. He had almost total control over the future techs market in this godforsaken city. Sure, the little blonde bitch that owned Hylia had sweet-talked her way into a position on his board, but she was running a quarter-of-a-million-rupee deficit every year. What the hell damage could she really do?

It didn't matter. Dragmire Technologies was posting record profits quarter after quarter. Every major piece of technology in Hyrule City had his name on it or in it. As far as he was concerned, he owned the city.

His phone beeped, rousing him from his masturbatory daydreaming. He slammed a finger on the answer button.

“Yes? What do you want?”

“Mr. Dragmire? Your eleven o'clock is here. Should I send her in?”

Ganondorf cleared the Hylia papers off his desk and sat down. “Yes, Midna, send her on in.”

Nabooru Spirit was every inch Ganondorf's ideal woman, though he tried very hard to hide it. Her knee-length sunflower yellow dress was in stark contrast to her milk chocolate skin. Her legs were long and lean, ending in those fuck me pumps she seemed to favour around the office. He felt a stirring, and was privately glad he was sitting at his desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Dragmire!” Her voice was bright and chipper, hardly the attitude he'd expect on a storming day like today. “I have the weekly R&D reports you requested. Shall we go over them now, or would you prefer to leave it for this afternoon's board meeting? I understand we have a new board member joining us today.”

Ganondorf raised one red eyebrow. “That information is confidential, Doctor Spirit. I'm surprised you lovely ladies down in R&D know about it.”

She laughed, a bubbly, infectious laugh that he wanted to hate. “Oh please. You're wearing your big business suit, you seem vaguely disgruntled, and there's a scent of lilacs in your office. Unless you're wearing lilac perfume that leaves only one possibility. Hylia's CEO was in here. Since you're eye-fucking me more than you normally do, that means you're feeling smug and self-assured, which tells me you sealed the deal. Since you're disgruntled, she must have demanded something in return, and if you've just sold your company, the only thing worth having is a seat on the board of directors.” She gave him a smile that was equal parts warm and cold, almost vicious and predatory, her pearly white teeth practically shining. Ganondorf was stunned.

“I'm not eye-fucking you, Nabooru.”

“Ha! But you did give Harkinian a seat on the board.”

“Not important. Anyway, lets go over these R&D reports during the board meeting. I want the directors to see that we have what it takes to keep our supply lines safe from whoever keeps hitting them. The Iron Knuckle could be the solution to a lot of problems. I'm certainly glad you're at the head of that project, Nabooru.”

She flashed him another predatory grin as she got up to leave. “You can say all you like to get into my panties, Ganondorf. Doesn't change the fact that you have no chance.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded, one hand on the doorknob. “I'd have to be wearing some.” Quick as a flash, she opened the door and flew through it, closing it silently behind her. Ganondorf turned his chair around and looked back out his windows at the city. A lot had certainly changed since the monarchy had been overthrown. Since he left Gerudo Desert.

The rain, though.

The rain could fuck off.

 

_**Daphnes Street** _   
_**Hyrule City** _   
_**Duember 22 nd, 2104** _   
_**11:30 AM** _

__

Zelda pressed her phone to her ear, listening as it rang and rang and rang.

“Come on, you lazy sack of shit, pick up.”

There was a click.

“ _'lo?_ ”

She sighed in relief. “Link. It's Zelda. I left Dragmire's office a little while ago and I'm on my way back. He owns us now. I feel dirty.”

“ _I mean listen, you didn't have to sell to him. You make more in a month off your savings and investments than Hylia made in her most profitable year. Coulda just funnelled that into my department._ ” There was a loud clang in the background, followed by gratuitous cursing. “ _Sorry. We're testing out a new hookshot model. I call it the clawshot.”_

Zelda rolled her eyes. “We'll talk about this later. Dinner, Telma's, 6:30?” She listened for a response, but got none. “Link?”  
“ _What?_ ”  
“Dinner, Telma's, 6:30?”  
“ _Uh-huh. Sure. Yeah, yeah I'll be there._ ”

She ended their call and stuffed her phone back into her purse, casually checking over her shoulder in case she was followed. You never could be too careful when you'd just sold out to Dragmire Technologies. All things considered, her meeting had gone rather well. She had negotiated herself a spot on his board of directors, where she'd be able to oversee the development of her former company and ensure that Link's department stayed buried under a small mountain of paperwork, where it belonged. The last thing she needed was his private developments being handed over to a war-hungry bastard like Dragmire. He was already knee deep in the Hyrule Army's latest project, the Iron Knuckle. Suppose he got his hands on Link's hookshots?

A car horn screeched as it flew by her, rousing her from her thoughts. Oh well, she thought, she'd worry about it all at her first board meeting later today. He'd told her not to bother, that she could start fresh with Tuesday's, but she had every intention of attending every board meeting. Too much was at risk.

After all, how would it look if it hit papers that the former princess was funding and supplying a vigilante with the tools he needed?

 

**_Telma's Bar_ **   
**_Hyrule City_ **   
**_Duember 22 nd, 2104_ **   
**_6:46 PM_ **

 

Zelda threw back another shot. The board meeting had gone about as well as she'd expected. A lot of applauding Ganondorf for buying out another small company, and a lot of talking about making it profitable again. But she didn't want to think about that right now. Now, she wanted a night with her best employee and lifelong friend.

Who was fifteen minutes late and counting. Probably with his head stuck in another book, or wrist-deep in another contraption. She glanced at her phone. No new messages. She glanced over at Telma who obligingly poured her another shot. As she threw it back, the door opened, and a familiar mess of blonde hair walked in.

“Yes, hello, hi, sorry I'm late. We lost track of time with the clawshots. Did you order anything besides alcohol?”

Zelda laughed. “No, no just the alcohol. What are you hungry for? Telma's Surprise, or something a little less wriggling?”

Link shook his head and shrugged. “I haven't eaten in two days. Any kind of food would be good. How did the board meting go?”

Zelda sighed and looked down at her hands. “I was hoping to avoid business. It went well. Lots of 'how do we make them profitable' and 'congratulations on buying them with lots of money'. They didn't look too closely at the reports. Too eager to get on to Ganondorf's latest R&D reports.”

Link nodded. “Good. Good, yeah, no, that's good. The less close they look, the easier it'll be to keep what it is we do under wraps.”

She looked up at him. “Are you going out tonight?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nah. Done enough damage for this week. Besides, they're probably looking for me now. I need to lay low for a bit, switch up my tactics.” Zelda nodded at this, poking at the peanuts on the table.

They sat in silence for a while, as Telma quietly cleaned off her bar while she waited for the food to cook. The door opened and a figure darted in, looking around the bar. Their eyes settled on Link and Zelda. Slowly, the robed person made their way over.

“Tomorrow night, Dragmire Technologies will be moving the first units out of the Waterfront. The ship is due to leave at exactly midnight. It is bound for Termina.” A single gloved hand appeared from beneath the robe, holding a manila folder full of papers. “This is everything you need to understand Dragmire's involvement in the Iron Knuckle program, and how exactly he won that contract. There are still those of us in this city who stand with the monarchy. Goddesses bless you and your work, Your Highness.”

Without another word, the person turned and left, slipping out the door as quickly as they had slipped in. Link looked from the door, to the folder, to Zelda's astonished face.

“I didn't think we had anyone on the inside at Dragmire Technologies.”

Zelda shook her head. “We don't. And yet, we apparently do.” She pulled the folder over and looked at it sitting in front of her. “I shouldn't open it here. You never know who's-- hey!”

Link reached across the table and flipped it open. There, on the first page, for all to see, was the Dragmire Technologies logo. Below it was Ganondorf's name, and some text in Gerudo. Covering it all was a bright red stamp that read **TOP SECRET**. Zelda looked up at Link with pursed lips.

“It looks we do have a friend on the inside after all.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in five years, and it probably really shows. I'm sorry.  
> Please bear with it. Or don't. I'm a footnote, not your mother.


End file.
